


Paint me blue

by dunklenacht310



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Art, Bottom Harry, Colours, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sex, Harry-centric, M/M, Top Zayn, Universities, Unresolved Tension, Zayn paints, and we all love zayn painting, but it eventually resolves itself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 05:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18190367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunklenacht310/pseuds/dunklenacht310
Summary: Zayn smiled brightly, the crinkles by his eyes digging deep in their corners, and Harry found himself smiling widely as well.Zayn blushed, andThank God I can see colours ‘cause this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever fucking seen thank you thank you thank you. “Oh. You… you have dimples” Zayn said.Harry chuckled. “I’ve been told”“I like dimples”Do you now. “Well, I like eyelashes. You have eyelashes”-In Harry's unfair, unfair world, you only start to see colours once you touch your soulmate. But Harry is different, Harry has always been able to see all the colours since he was born. The downside, of course, is that he has no way of finding his soulmate. Until Zayn Malik happens. And well, maybe the universe doesn't have the best ideas when it's about fixing things.





	Paint me blue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know or own any of the characters present in this work. The title's taken from the song "Paint me blue" by Tabitha's secret.  
> I've been told I might have an obsession with Soulmate AUs. I am shamelessly not sorry :)

 

 

 

“Describe them to me?”

Louis had spoken in that distant, sad tone he sometimes got. He was lying down on the grass, his head resting in Harry’s lap while Harry sat with his back against the tree. It was their favourite tree, the lone tree in the middle of that small glade at the end of the park, barely ten minutes away from their place. It was the spot where they escaped when neither of them felt like dealing with anyone else.

Louis rolled to be on his back, his head still in Harry’s lap, and looked up at Harry.

Well, of course, he didn’t really _look_.

The world was an extremely unfair place, Harry thought. He understood the universe was trying to _help_ people find their soulmates, but he honestly thought there were better ways to do that. You could have cute paper hearts explode around your head or something. But no, it had to be the colours.

You only see in black and white, until you touch your soulmate. Harry could only imagine how awful that must be. He could quite _literally_ only imagine, because Harry had always seen all the colours of the world, if not since the day he was born, at least since he was too young to remember ever _not_ seeing them.

The world was unfair for many reasons, and two of them nagged at Harry the most. The first was that it wasn’t fair that he could see all the beautiful colours in the world, while most of the people he cared about couldn’t. The second was that colours were indeed really really nice, but they meant Harry had absolutely _no way_ to recognize his soulmate if he ever met them.

Not that it actually mattered, in the long run. Harry was pretty sure he wouldn’t mind not ever being certain who his soulmate was, and just relying on the good old fall-in-love-and-that’s-it. The thing was, he’d never fallen in love, and sometimes he got scared he never would, because something was wrong with him, or because he just _wasn’t meant to_ , which was even scarier.

Then, of course, there was yet another reason the world was unfair, and it was probably the thing Harry hated the most.

Because sometimes it was more intense than just being colour-blind. Sometimes, you were born with no sight at all, blind, and the doctors would run all the tests, and they wouldn’t find anything anatomically wrong with you. Sometimes you were just particularly unlucky, and only meeting your soulmate would give you your eyesight.

Sometimes, when you’re particularly unlucky, you’re Louis Tomlinson.

“Hazza?” Louis called him “You there?”

Harry lowered his gaze onto Louis, staring into his glassy, milky-white eyes even though he knew Louis couldn’t see him. “Yeah, Lou, I’m here. Sorry. I spaced out”

Louis chuckled. “Describe it to me?” he asked, almost in a whisper.

Harry sighed. “The grass is very, very, _extremely_ green today. It’s sunny, so it looks like everything is shining. Some flowers already blossomed, they’re all white, I think they’re daisies. The trees all around the glade are also very green, although a shade darker than the grass. And then there’s the most beautiful flower of them all, which of course is me. I am wearing a very cute sheer shirt, dark green with pineapples printed all over”

“Oh Jesus Christ” Louis laughed, hard “And I’m supposed to be the blind one”

Harry laughed too, relieved, because he hated when Louis got sad and asked him to describe him the world. He only asked when he was feeling particularly down.

“Excuse you” Harry said when he stopped laughing “My taste in shirts is very on point, cheers”

“Hazza, my Hazza, I think your shirts are a crime against humanity, from the way you always describe them to me, and I say so with all my deepest love and affection for ya”

Harry playfully swatted at Louis’s head, and Louis grunted, catching Harry’s hand with a quick move. Louis was like one of those superheroes, Harry thought sometimes, like Daredevil. He was blind, but all his other senses were sharpened by a whole life led without counting on his eyes.

Harry squealed when Louis squeezed his fingers, and then Louis let him go.

“Do you hate it?” Louis asked after a moment, his tone suddenly quiet again “That you won’t ever be able to recognize your soulmate?”

Harry shrugged. “Honestly? Sometimes I do. But most of the time I think I would manage to just fall in love with someone and be happy anyway” he answered, and then grinned “What I hate is that until you find yours you won’t ever be able to see how gorgeous I am” he added, trying to lighten Louis’s mood yet again.

Louis chuckled, and raised a hand to ruffle Harry’s curls. “My mood would be shit all the time without you, my Hazza”

“I know” Harry sighed dramatically.

“Do you wanna go get ice-cream?” Louis asked after a moment “We can do another one of your social experiments and see how many fit blokes step out to help me choose my flavours when they realize I can’t see”

Harry barked a laugh. “That happened _one_ time, and you flirted with more than _ten_ people that day, getting _ten_ ice-creams for free, and you almost threw up”

Louis shrugged. “It’s The Curse Of Good Looks, my Hazza” he declared “Too bad none of ‘em was the right one, or I would have finally been able to see if the blue flavour is really as blue as I imagine it”

Harry chuckled, grimacing a little bit at Louis’s very resigned tone, and made sure not to emit any sounds, because with Louis it didn’t matter if you didn’t speak, a wrong sigh was all it took for him to understand you were sad as well.

Louis slowly sat up, and Harry stood up, retrieving Louis’s white cane and then offering him a hand to help him stand up, which Louis took as surely as any other time. When he was standing as well, Harry handed him the cane, and he took it. “I hate this thing, you know” Louis commented, looking at the cane without being able to really see it “Makes me look like an eighty-year-old I bet”

“I think it gives you an edge” Harry offered, linking his arm under Louis’s to guide him towards the path that led to the exit of the park.

As soon as they started walking, Harry saw two figures jogging and coming towards them. When they got closer, Harry was able to make out how _fit_ they both were. One of them was more ripped than the other, wearing a white tank-top and jogging sweats, his light-brown hair buzzed short except for a small quiff at the front. And the other… _well_ , the other.

The guy had pitch back hair, the sides shaved and the rest tied up in a tight topknot. He was lean, but Harry could see broad shoulders under the black t-shirt, as well as two almost-finished sleeves of tattoos.

“Oh, fuck” Harry chuckled “Okay, Lou, I’m actually very sorry you can’t see this, but there are two extremely fit guys jogging and coming this way” he whispered to Louis.

Louis rolled his white eyes. “I hate when you have to look at the fit blokes for me” he said “Describe ‘em to me?”

Harry obliged, still in a hushed tone although the two lads were still far enough from them that they couldn’t possibly hear. They were talking to each other, and the black-haired one smiled, and Harry gaped.

“Haz?”

Harry shook his head. “Sorry, ‘s like… the one with the black hair has a beautiful smile”

Louis snorted. “A smile. I’m here waiting to hear how they look in the sack, and he talks about the smile”

Harry shoved a little at Louis. “Don’t be crass, and shut up, they’re about to pass us by”

Louis laughed and shook his head, but he didn’t say anything embarrassing as the two guys were now mere feet away from them.

As the two lads eyed Harry and Louis, the one with the black hair smiled at Harry, and Harry thought that smile could probably end wars, with the way the guy’s eyes crinkled and his tongue pushed behind his teeth.

And then, something happened.

The guy with the brown hair passed Louis by, their shoulders lightly brushing. And Louis gasped like he’d been shot, squeezing Harry’s arm as his legs gave up and he fell on his knees, panting, heaving.

“Louis? Louis!” Harry kneeled down next to him, his heart pounding painfully in his chest in fear of whatever it was that was making Louis gasp and crumble on the ground. But Louis didn’t turn to Harry as he normally did when Harry called for him.

His head was raised towards the brown-haired guy, and the guy was also panting, his palms resting on his own knees as he bent and stared at Louis.

“Liam? You okay, mate?” the black-haired guy asked the other.

Harry searched Louis’s face to try and look for any signs of what was wrong, and when he finally _understood_ , Harry’s breath punched out of his mouth in a gasp.

Louis’s eyes were of the clearest blue.

Not milky-white, not glassy. _Blue_. Sea-blue, beautiful and clear and _alive_.

“Your eyes are blue” Harry said dumbly, because he’d known Louis their whole life, but he’d never known what colour Louis’s eyes really were.

Louis was still staring at the guy, still one hand clutching Harry’s arm in a vice-like grip.

The guy nodded. “Your eyes. They’re blue”

“I can see” Louis said in a hiss “I can see you. I can see everything”

“Oh, fuck” the black-haired guy smiled kindly “Liam?”

The guy, Liam, turned to look at his friend. “Zayn, I can see colours. They’re beautiful”

Louis finally turned his head to face Harry. His eyes, his _blue blue blue_ eyes, widened. “Haz?”

Harry huffed out a laugh and started crying. “Lou?”

“I thought you’d be hotter by the detailed descriptions of yourself you gave me” Louis stated, arching an eyebrow.

Harry laughed. Hard, his breath wheezing, grabbing Louis by the shoulders to pull him in a hug while at the same time kicking away the fucking white cane. “You can see you can see you can see” Harry murmured, and Louis hugged him back just as tightly.

“Yeah, Haz, I can” he breathed.

“You… you were one of the blind ones, weren’t you?”

Both Harry and Louis interrupted their hug to look at the guy, Liam, who was the one speaking.

Louis stood up, pulling Harry up with him, and then stared at Liam like he was the best fucking thing he’d ever seen. Granted, the things Louis had actually _seen_ were not many, but still.

Louis nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I was. I can see now”

Liam smiled brightly. “I’m glad we met, then. I’m Liam”

“Louis” Louis replied, shaking his hand, a bit awkwardly “This is more awkward than I thought it would be”

Liam laughed. “Right?”

Harry smiled at Louis. A lot of people met their soulmates, they gave each other their colours, but didn’t stay together after that. By the way Louis was embarrassedly speaking to Liam, though, Liam might just be _his_ type at last.

“So, you already have your colours?”

Harry turned to the black-haired guy – _Zayn_ , Liam had called him, Harry thought – and he found another kind smile and crinkled eyes.

Harry shrugged and scratched the back of his head. “Um, yeah? But, like, it’s weird, I always had them”

Zayn gaped. “Oh, wow, that’s… awesome?” he carefully said, studying Harry’s reaction to the obvious implication there.

Harry smiled. “Most of the time?” he tried.

Zayn sighed. “Well, might be a bit of a bummer on the soulmate department, but at least you can enjoy things being cuter than how the rest of the people see them, yeah?”

Harry nodded, smiling. “Yeah, things are kinda cuter in colour. Wouldn’t exactly know about that I guess, I never knew anything else” he said “Anyway. Thanks for bringing Liam here out of nowhere. Louis’s life has been… kinda rough, before this very moment”

Zayn nodded, giving a glance to Louis and Liam who were still talking. His eyelashes and cheekbones were so perfect they looked fake, but nothing fake could ever be _so_ perfect.

Zayn smiled at Harry again. “Honestly, it was Liam who forced me. I hate working out” he admitted “I’m Zayn, by the way” he added, unnecessarily, stretching a hand out for Harry.

Harry shook it. “Harry. I hate working out too” he lamely said.

“What do you say if we all go grab a coffee?” Liam asked, a bit louder than when he was just talking to Louis “If you two can tolerate me and Zayn being all sweaty, that is”

Louis sighed and grinned. “I am a devoted fan of sweaty men, if I can look at ‘em” he stated.

Harry rolled his eyes and facepalmed. “Yes, we can go get coffee, if you can tolerate Louis speaking”

Liam smiled brightly at Louis. “I think I’ll manage”

As soon as Liam and Louis turned to start heading out of the park, Zayn arched an eyebrow in Harry’s direction, gesturing to their two friends.

Harry giggled, and Zayn followed him right away.

The world might be unfair, but sometimes, things started to kind of work out, and Harry liked that. Especially if things working out came with gorgeous men with eyelashes and cheekbones and tattoos.

 

*

 

Harry woke up the morning after feeling giggly and in an amazing mood. He’d spent the night with Louis at their place, smiling so much whenever Louis caught sight of himself in the mirror or stared at common things like spoons or kitchen cabinets, that by the end of the night, Harry’s cheeks hurt.

He didn’t mind, though. He’d rather have his cheeks hurt forever if it would keep the amazed and happy smile on Louis’s face there all the time.

Harry liked to rise with the sun even when he didn’t have classes or work. He chuckled, thinking about one of the first things Zayn had told him the day before, while they got coffee with Liam and Louis. Zayn had said he didn’t like to wake up at all, and he’d very much like it if waking up was not an option anymore. It had made Harry laugh.

To be fair, Zayn had made Harry laugh every two seconds, even about things that weren’t funny in the slightest, so much so that Louis had started giving Harry pointed looks over his cup of coffee, and Harry had noticed and ignored it, although it still felt kind of amazing and weird that Louis’s eyes were just _blue_ now. Blue was Harry’s favourite colour, Harry chuckled to himself as he padded down to the kitchen to make himself some coffee.

His phone, which Harry had forgotten on the counter of the kitchen the night before, buzzed with a text. Harry looked at it, and barely had the time to get excited when he saw the sender was Zayn before the phone flashed an angry red ‘0% battery, device shutting off’, and immediately died.

“Oh, come on, seriously” Harry grunted, coffee forgotten as he jumped the stairs back to his room two at a time. He scrambled for his charger and plugged it into the phone. “C’mon c’mon c’mon” he muttered, feeling a bit dumb for getting overexcited about a simple text, but there he was.

The phone finally came back to life, and Harry quickly opened the text.

_Hey, what’re u doing? I was thinking we could go grab a coffee?_

Harry almost dropped the fucking phone in his haste to answer. _I am completely and totally free. But I didn’t think you even knew this hour in the morning existed?_

_Very funny, Styles. I booked the art lab in uni for today, but arse o’ clock was the only available time._

Harry laughed. _How much time do I have to make you appreciate the beauty of an early morning?_

_Gotta b there in an hour and a half. But if u have shit to do it’s cool._

“I gotta be stupid to pass on this” Harry said to himself. _I can be ready and out of the house in twenty. Where?_

_Coffee shop on campus? Cheers, ur a lifesaver. Liam ditched me to go jogging and I might just fall asleep again if u weren’t there._

Harry squealed, legit _squealed_ in delight and sent Zayn a coffee cup emoji paired with a sleepy face one, and then told him he would meet him at the place in twenty.

“I didn’t think your face looked like _this_ when you made that noise” Louis announced his presence in the room.

Harry stood up and smiled brightly at his friend, taking just a minute to appreciate his new eyes again. “Your eyes are just _beautiful_ ” he stated, grabbing Louis by the shoulders to give him a smacking kiss on the forehead.

Louis grimaced and pushed Harry away. “What are you so giggly about?”

Harry grinned. “I’m going to grab coffee with Zayn” he announced.

Louis arched both his eyebrows. “Are you now”

“Yep” Harry assured, popping the ‘p’ “When are you going to see _your brand new soulmate Liam_?” he added with a grin.

Louis rolled his eyes and shoved at Harry’s shoulder. “I am actually going to see Liam tonight, Hazza, thank you very much for asking”

Harry grinned again. “Look at us both, hanging out with fit blokes and all”

“Wait until Niall finds out” Louis sighed.

Harry laughed. “He’s gonna be thrilled that you can finally see how blonde his hair is”

Louis rolled his eyes again and then shoved Harry to the bathroom to make him get ready, and when Harry was done he slung the backpack with his books on his shoulder and tried to kiss Louis on the forehead again, only to be manhandled towards the front door and then be kicked out of the house by his very own best friend.

He chuckled and straightened his shirt, making sure the only two done-up buttons were on point, and then got out of the building, scrunching his nose at the sun but not wearing his shades, because he liked the sun. The street was pretty quiet that day, only a few cars coming by as Harry crossed the street and nodded his good morning to the two teens who always snuck behind the giant billboard to smoke in secret.

The billboard featured an extremely large ad for some kind of new car, and Harry rolled his eyes at how sexist the company had been, choosing the car to be displayed by a fit smiling woman in a bikini. The company had also gone to extreme lengths, since they apparently took care of having the girl wear different kinds of bikinis, because the same ad had been on the billboard for a week, only the bikini had been purple, while now it was grey.

The thought that he wouldn’t be able to complain about it with most of his friends without being extremely insensitive and rude about the fact that he could _see_ it while they couldn’t was depressing, so Harry took a deep sigh and stopped thinking about it.

He wouldn’t let purple and grey bikinis ruin his coffee-maybe-date with Zayn.

 

*

 

Zayn was not human, Harry decided when he spotted him smoking outside the coffee shop.

 _Smoke is bad, but Jesus, it looks good on him_ , he thought. No, Zayn definitely couldn’t be human, because there was no way someone _normal_ could make a simple grey sweater and skinny jeans look like clothes out of a fashion show. Zayn was taking drags from the cigarette holding the filter between his thumb and index, leaning into a wall and kicking the tip of his boot against the gravel, his hair tied in a topknot just like it’d been the day before.

When he spotted Harry, he stubbed out his cigarette against the wall and threw it in a nearby bin, waving at Harry with a smile.

Harry could perfectly see even from a distance how big and honey-coloured Zayn’s eyes were, and he noticed how his eyelashes cast thin shadows on his stupidly perfect cheekbones.

 _Oh boy_ , he sighed to himself, smiling and waving back until he finally reached Zayn.

He would have stood there awkwardly if Zayn hadn’t taken the awkwardness and gotten rid of it by going straight for a hug.

His body was solid against Harry, and although Harry had a couple inches on him, he felt so small between Zayn’s solid arms that he could have disappeared right then and there and nobody would have noticed.

“Hi” Zayn muttered “I hate mornings”

“Yes, you might have mentioned it” Harry grinned “Coffee?”

“Please”

They made their way inside the café and Zayn chose a lovely-looking booth in a corner, by the window, gesturing to it for Harry to ask if he liked it. Harry smiled and nodded, and they dropped their bags on the seats before making their way to the counter to order.

Once they both got a nice cup of black coffee and even a pastry, they sat at their booth, and Harry thoroughly enjoyed watching Zayn’s caramel eyes grow bigger as the caffeine made its way through his body and woke him up completely.

“Thanks for coming” Zayn said after a moment “I really wouldn’t have managed to get out of bed if I didn’t have something to do”

 _I’m always here if you wanna do me_ , Harry thought, but incredibly managed to not make a complete fool of himself by saying it out loud. “I’m glad I could help” he said instead, giving himself an imaginary pat on the shoulder.

Zayn smiled brightly, the crinkles by his eyes digging deep in their corners, and Harry found himself smiling widely as well.

Zayn blushed, and _Thank God I can see colours ‘cause this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever fucking seen thank you thank you thank you_. “Oh. You… you have dimples” Zayn said.

Harry chuckled. “I’ve been told”

“I like dimples”

 _Do you now_. “Well, I like eyelashes. You have eyelashes”

Zayn arched an eyebrow, but he was grinning as well. “I’ve been told” he said, and then his expression got more serious as he stared at his coffee “Um… I might have not mentioned this yesterday, but, you know… I’m like you”

Harry kept his grin, because he instantly decided he didn’t like Zayn being pensive. “Extremely funny with a good taste in clothes?”

Zayn snorted. “Debatable, both of ‘em”

“Hey” Harry pouted.

Zayn chuckled. “I mean… I also have my colours”

 _Why do you do this to me, world?_ , Harry complained angrily, but honestly, Zayn was just too fucking gorgeous not to have someone already. And that someone was his soulmate because the world had probably thrown a soulmate in Zayn’s face just to make him smile that way forever.

“Well, he or she must be happy I’m sure, that they gave ‘em to you” Harry said, trying to be as cool and collected and not weird as possible.

Zayn’s honey eyes widened, and he raised his hands in some kind of defence gesture. “No no no, I mean, like you!” he exclaimed “I’ve had my colours since I was born. That’s what I meant. I’m… I don’t have anyone at the moment. It would be a ‘he’ if I did, but I don’t”

 _Oh. OH._ Harry chuckled, still trying to keep his cool while his mind went a mile a minute, _he’s like me he understands he’s like me there’s nothing wrong with me I’m not the only one_. “I never met anyone else like me” he said sincerely “I… I thought there’s just something wrong with me”

“Nothing could be ever wrong with you” Zayn blurted out, then blushed some more “I mean. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with you. Otherwise, you know, it would mean there’s something wrong with me as well”

Harry laughed. “I guess?” he said “What… how do you feel about it? Do you, like, hate it? That you cannot recognize your soulmate?”

Zayn shook his head and smiled. “I’m a painter, babe. I’ll take my beloved colours over any soulmate” he murmured, fidgeting with the handle of his cup “Besides, I firmly believe a soulmate should be more than something wrong with people’s eyesight, you know. I grew up having faith that love will be enough for me to find someone to spend my life with”

 _Where the fuck have you been all this time_ , Harry thought, but he held his inside voice at bay and suppressed it harshly, because one thing was drooling over how fit Zayn was, another one was already starting to fall head over heels for basically a stranger.

“And” Zayn added with a smile “Just think about it. If I didn’t have my colours, I wouldn’t be able to see the masterpiece of modern art you’re wearing as a shirt” he eyed Harry’s chest with an eyebrow raised.

Harry lowered his gaze to his own shirt, a lovely piece with a blue background and flamingos printed all over it. “I’ll choose to take that as a compliment” he stated “I like your sweater as well. Grey suits you”

Zayn froze. He stared at Harry, colour completely drained from his face, and opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“Zayn?” Harry said in a rush “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry if I did”

Zayn took a shaky breath. “Harry… my sweater isn’t grey. It’s… it’s purple”

 

*

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Zayn asked in a sigh when they reached the arts building.

Harry wasn’t really okay, to be honest, but what good would throwing a strop about losing the colour purple do? “I am, Zayn, I promise”

“I dunno if I believe you” Zayn muttered, digging a little hole in the grass with the tip of his boot “I would have thrown a strop if I were you”

“It wouldn’t change anything” Harry said honestly “I lost a colour, yeah. I’ll deal with it, eventually. At least I didn’t lose blue. That would suck, I love blue”

Zayn smiled and sighed his little sigh again. “Where are you gonna go?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Library, to get some quiet and study for my literary critique exam. I won’t jump off a bridge, if that’s what you’re worried about”

Zayn chuckled nervously. “No? I mean, I was asking ‘cause if you just need the quiet, you can come to the lab with me. I can paint and you can study, there are desks there”

Harry’s heart did a small somersault behind his ribcage. “I can come if you stop looking at me like this” he conceded. He didn’t like Zayn’s pitiful gaze, he liked those honey-coloured eyes, but he wanted them to look at him like a normal person, not a terminally ill patient in some hospital. Harry now finally got why Louis got so angry when people would coo over him and try to help him too much. It sucked.

Zayn laughed. “I seriously doubt I’ll be able to stop looking at you any time soon, babe”

Harry felt heat rise in his cheeks, and he knew it showed and Zayn would notice, no matter how hard Harry tried to keep his expression neutral. “Do you wanna come?” Zayn asked “I’m doing monochromatic paintings this week. Today’s blue day”

Harry grinned. “Can’t say no to blue day now, can I”

 

*

 

Harry was intentioned to ignore the loss of purple as long as he could, but just to be sure, while he wandered around the art room where he and Zayn had settled, he eyed the tubes and tubes of oil paint on a shelf. As a grim confirmation, when he found the tube which read ‘purple’, Harry just saw grey.

He sighed, putting the tube back and turning around. Zayn was staring at him, but he pointedly averted his eyes and fixed them on the blank canvas on the easel in front of him, and Harry sighed.

“I said don’t look at me like that” Harry said, with no real heat behind his words.

Zayn just grinned. “Maybe I was staring at you ‘cause you got a nice back”

And well, apparently Zayn didn’t flirt, he just _spoke_. So Harry found no remorse in his heart when he grinned back. “In that case, you’re very welcome to stare”

Zayn laughed, but Harry didn’t miss the red tint to his cheeks when he spoke again, eyes on the canvas. “No can do, babe, or I won’t get anything done today”

Harry chuckled a little bit, and didn’t reply. He just settled himself on the nice armchair right in Zayn’s line of sight, and he took out his book. He needed to get at least _something_ done as well.

“Liam already saw Louis before, you know” Zayn said after maybe a couple hours of complete silence.

Harry raised his eyes from the book, looking at Zayn while he kept painting something Harry couldn’t see from where he was. “Did he?”

Zayn nodded. “He saw Louis here on campus, a shitton of times. He’s been blabbering to me about the fit blind bloke for three weeks already”

Harry widened his eyes in surprise. “Three _weeks_?” he exclaimed.

Zayn nodded again, chuckling. “He was too fucking shy to approach him. I’ve been making fun of him so much that he eventually got tired and decided to go jogging at the park where Louis usually hung out with his curly friend” he revealed “Too bad it bit me in the arse ‘cause he forced me to go with him”

Harry laughed. “Oh, well. I guess neither of you was expecting _this_ outcome”

“Nope” Zayn confirmed “I also didn’t expect ‘curly friend’ to be _this_ ” he added, staring at Harry with something unreadable in his eyes.

Harry held his gaze, feeling his face warm up. “ _This_ what?”

“You” Zayn just said, gesturing at the whole length of Harry’s body with his blue-stained brush.

Harry smiled. “Can I come see the painting?” he asked, and his voice was gritted, hoarse just from how _exposed_ Zayn’s eyes made him feel.

Zayn nodded, and cleared his throat. “Yeah. C’mere”

Harry stood up, fully stretching his back first only because he was a little shit, and then he strode towards Zayn, stopping right next to him and studiously ignoring looking at him in favour of the canvas.

The painting was just miles and miles of sea, touching more miles of sky on the horizon line, and everything was in probably more than a thousand shades of blue, from the rippling of the waves to the gentle curve of the clouds.

“Wow” Harry breathed “Zayn, this is… this is super cool. Did you literally only do this with blue?”

Zayn nodded, smiling. “Different shades. But yeah, only blue. Monochromatic doesn’t have to mean boring”

Harry slowly brought his gaze fully on Zayn, who was still sitting at the easel and had his head tilted backwards to be able to properly look back at Harry.

Zayn smiled some more. “Your eyes are very green” he remarked “Maybe I’ll use you as a model for green day”

Harry couldn’t help it. “ _I walk an only road, the only one that I have ever known_ ” he sung.

Zayn snorted, and then widened his eyes and brought his hands to his mouth to prevent his giggles to escape.

“What?” Harry asked, trying not to laugh.

Zayn took a breath and removed his hands from his lips. “Sorry, sorry. That one was actually quite funny”

“Excuse you, all my jokes are extremely funny”

“Debatable, babe”

 _I might just get used to you calling me babe_. Harry opened his mouth to retort, but right that moment someone knocked on the door, and the spell was broken.

Harry cleared his throat and straightened his back just as someone opened the door, and then a girl’s head poked in. “Ehm, hi? Sorry but, your booked time’s up, I’m afraid”

Zayn nodded at the girl. “Yeah, thanks”

The girl nodded and retreated, and once they were alone again, Zayn smiled at Harry. “More coffee?”

Harry grinned. “More coffee it is”

 

*

 

Harry spent the whole day with Zayn, in the end, and although _absolutely nothing_ happened, he was still more than content when he finally crawled into bed and rested his head on his pillow with a sigh.

He resolutely avoided thinking about his loss of purple, because thinking about it meant giving in to the fear that he would wake up the next morning, and another colour would be gone.

So, instead of thinking about purple, he thought about blue. About Louis’s new eyes, and about Zayn painting seas and skies, and that was how he fell asleep, with the image of honey-coloured eyes, and the silent prayer that he wouldn’t wake up with his browns gone, because he wanted to look more at Zayn’s eyes first.

When he woke up the next morning, he roamed around the house, sending suspicious glances to everything grey, to make sure the objects had always been grey, and no more colours were gone from his sight.

Harry deliberated he was fine, and since no more colour loss had happened, he didn’t even tell Louis, because Louis was extremely happy, about his sight and about Liam, and Harry would be damned if he would spoil his friend’s mood. A loss of purple was nothing, Harry would survive. He didn’t even like purple that much, to be honest.

So he spent his morning working at the reception in the hotel where he’d been hired some months earlier, his afternoon with Zayn in the art lab, and his evening with Louis, and that was how a whole week passed.

Harry and Zayn learned to know each other a lot better, and Harry filed every small info in his brain, because he would probably never tire of Zayn and his caramel eyes, at that point. He learned that Zayn liked a shitton of milk in his coffee, but had taken a black one that first day because he thought Harry would think he was a pussy (“honestly, Zayn, you should stop using ‘pussy’ as an insult, it’s sexist and it doesn’t have anything to do with coffee”). Zayn’s favourite colour was green. He had a huge family, mother, father and three sisters, and he loved them all very much. He’d known Liam his whole life, much like Harry had known Louis and Niall since kindergarten. Zayn had never been in love, and sometimes, like Harry, he thought that maybe he was already born with his colours because he wasn’t meant to be with anyone. Harry scolded him whenever he said that, but he also felt like a hypocrite because that was exactly how Harry himself felt sometimes.

Nothing was happening between them except hours and hours of silent study and then more hours of intense conversations, and to Harry it was clear that Zayn could flirt with him like no one’s business sometimes, but he wasn’t really interested.

Sometimes they would go out with Louis and Liam, and Zayn would get a deep frown on his beautiful face when Harry danced or flirted with anyone available. But as soon as Harry would ask what was wrong, Zayn would smile and say ‘nothing’, and Harry would be forced to let it go.

No more colours disappeared. Zayn wasn’t interested, but he still looked for Harry to hang out every day, so maybe they could at least be friends. Life was good.

Until a week later, when Niall finally came back from Ireland and joined them at a club, ready to show off his blonde hair to Louis, and when Harry looked at Niall’s hair, it was grey.

 

*

 

The loss of yellows had been a fucking nightmare, because even after two weeks, Harry still felt incredibly sad that he could feel the sun on his skin, but the weather always looked cloudy to him now.

Other colours had started vanishing. First it had been the reds, then the pinks, then the oranges. Until one day Harry had woken up, looked at himself in the mirror while shaving, and he’d seen he had grey eyes.

His mood was slowly deteriorating, and with the passing of the weeks, apparently so was Zayn’s. Harry didn’t know if it had to do with him, but Zayn was a kind and empathic soul, so he was pretty sure Zayn’s sad undertones were due to the fact that Zayn was more sorry about Harry’s gradual loss of colours than Harry himself was.

Harry tried to tell himself it was just the universe fixing the mistake it had done with him from the beginning. Maybe it was finally giving Harry a way to eventually recognize his soulmate.

But Harry didn’t like it anyway, and it didn’t make it any less painful. Because Harry loved his colours, and he didn’t need a soulmate.

There had been a night, after losing the greens, in which Harry had started to be very scared blues were next. They’d gone out, and Harry had gotten massively drunk. And as it often happened, a drunk Harry was a horny Harry, so he’d started to be extremely touchy with Zayn, only to be met with a tight smile and Zayn’s hands gently grabbing his wrists to remove Harry’s hands from his shoulders. Harry had gotten angry and had danced with strangers until his eyes crossed, until Niall and Louis had had to bring him home. Once they put him to bed, Harry had finally cried and confessed he was losing all his colours. Niall and Louis hadn’t left Harry alone the whole night after that, and Harry had felt like he had a disease, but he’d still been glad for his friends.

Zayn had looked almost physically in pain as he’d watched Harry dance, but Harry hadn’t stopped, because if Zayn didn’t want him, then Harry was free to go look for someone else.

The problem was that Harry didn’t need a soulmate because he didn’t want anyone else. He wanted Zayn, more and more each day, and he wanted him so much he didn’t even care if he would never have him, he needed Zayn to be in his life in whatever form Harry could get. So he’d gone to the art lab and he’d said sorry to Zayn, even if he had nothing to apologize for.

Zayn had smiled one of his crinkly smiles, and Harry had re-learned how to breathe properly.

They were in the lab again, that day, Harry studying in the armchair and Zayn staring at his easel, no canvas on it and a frown on his forehead.

“Zayn?” Harry called him.

Zayn hummed, and looked sideways at Harry, but just for a moment.

“How are you gonna paint without any canvas?”

Zayn shrugged and sighed, the frown still etched to his face. Harry hated it with a passion. “I, um, don’t need canvas for this assignment”

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“It should be… like, body painting”

Harry felt a shiver run up his spine but tried to tame his traitorous body into stillness. “Oh. So you have to, like, paint on yourself?”

Zayn shook his head, finally looking back at Harry. “I could, yeah, but it would be too hard. I haven’t asked anybody else either, though”

 _I must be stupid or just a massive masochist_ , Harry thought before smiling at Zayn. “You can paint on me if you want”

Zayn’s eyes widened, and Harry silently thanked God for the browns he still could see. “Would you do it?” he asked Harry, something akin to awe in his tone.

Harry nodded and stood up. “Where do you want me?”

Zayn blushed. Harry couldn’t really see blushing anymore, but he’d learned to notice when people’s cheeks became just a tiny shade darker than the now normal grey, and that was what he was seeing on Zayn’s lovely cheekbones now. “Um, just, like, take off your clothes. Not all of them!” Zayn exclaimed in a rush “Just like, your shirt and jeans. And then you can like lay down on the carpet, I swear it’s clean”

Harry chuckled, and did as he was told. He could practically _feel_ Zayn’s eyes on his back as he turned to gently place his clothes on the armchair, but when he turned again and looked at Zayn, Zayn was sporting a very blank expression.

Harry took a breath and lay down on the carpet, his hands propped under his head, and he clearly saw Zayn swallow down air before he got closer.

“I think…” Zayn said, then cleared his throat “I think I’m gonna paint you blue”

Harry chuckled. “Why would you paint me blue?” he grinned.

“Because… you can still see blues, right?” Zayn replied, his huge eyes worried and tentative.

And well, that was enough to suck all the flirt out of Harry’s body and mind, because Zayn might not be interested, but he was always so thoughtful, so kind, Harry wanted to fucking eat him sometimes.

Harry smiled more genuinely, and nodded. “Yeah. I can still see blues”

“Then I’ll paint you blue. So you can see it” Zayn said in almost a whisper.

Zayn took up the biggest brush first, opening the can of light blue, and dipping the brush in the body paint. It smelled differently from regular paint, but it was still a good smell.

Zayn dragged the brush all over Harry’s front, his legs, his stomach, his chest and up to his collarbones, until there wasn’t an inch of Harry’s skin that wasn’t blue, with the exception of his face.

Harry felt goose-bumps run all over his skin, and he didn’t manage to hold back a sigh as Zayn brushed over his body. He could feel the start of a semi already forming, and _no no no no behave Harry behave please don’t fuck everything up_.

Zayn chuckled. “You good, babe? I can feel your heartbeat under my brush”

Harry nodded. “’S nice. Like, really really nice” he whispered, trying to sound sleepy instead of almost to the point of having a boner Zayn would notice in three seconds through his boxers.

Zayn smiled, taking Harry’s wrists and brushing his arms until they were completely blue as well; the paint dried up almost instantly, so Zayn just waited maybe ten seconds before gently resting Harry’s arms by each side of his head.

Harry stared at Zayn as he took up a smaller brush, using the dark blue, and started from his ankle, working his way up until strings of seaweed were drawn up both of Harry’s legs. Harry was already too worked up by the time Zayn decided it was a brilliant idea to settle between Harry’s legs so that he could draw on the inside of his thighs.

 _Jesus_ , Harry thought, _now it’ll be impossible for me not to get hard every time I see you holding a brush and looking at a blank canvas_.

Zayn briefly stared at Harry’s eyes at some point, but Harry was quick to avert his gaze, because Zayn crouched between his legs and looking up at him might disrupt all the stubborn attempts at not getting a boner, which were probably failing anyway, but Zayn hadn’t stopped drawing, and hadn’t said anything, so maybe Harry was managing.

Zayn kept drawing on Harry’s stomach with blacks and whites, and Harry kept his eyes trained on the ceiling, partly because it was too much, and partly because he wanted to be surprised.

When he heard Zayn sigh and he felt the brush stop stroking his body, Harry carefully took a look at Zayn.

“I wanna see” Harry said.

Zayn smiled and nodded, slowly standing up and holding out a hand for Harry. Harry took it and stood up as well, letting Zayn guide him to a full body mirror on the other side of the room.

Harry looked at himself.

A killer whale was swimming on his stomach, and various fish in different shades of blue were adorning his sides, and his chest, and doing loops around the leaves of laurel he had tattooed on his hips.

“Oh wow” Harry exhaled “Zayn, this is… this is like, amazing”

Zayn chuckled, and when Harry turned to him, he was carefully clutching his phone. “Can I… take a couple pictures? Unless you wanna keep the painting on your body until the deadline, that is”

Harry laughed. “Be my guest” he conceded, doing a pirouette and then staring at Zayn while he took pictures of him and his masterpiece.

“You’re beautiful”

Harry wasn’t a hundred per cent sure he heard it right, but the shocked expression he could see on Zayn’s face when he lowered his phone told him the words had indeed left Zayn’s mouth.

Harry wanted to kiss him so bad, but Zayn was still there, astounded and not moving, and Harry would eventually come to terms with the fact Zayn might flirt and tell him he was beautiful, but he wouldn’t want Harry anyway, or they wouldn’t have spent weeks, _months_ , doing absolutely nothing about it.

So Harry did his best to chuckle and grin and be his usual flirty self, and then smiled. “I think I’ll go to the showers in the gym and wash the paint off. See you in a few?” he said.

Zayn’s face fell, and he nodded while already turning to the paints to put them away, giving Harry his back. “Yeah” he just said.

Harry went.

By the time he’d reached the shower and had started washing the paint off, the sea on his body had turned into a swirl of greys.

 

*

 

Harry was on the verge of despair when he went back to the lab. Even the blues were gone now, all the lovely blues of the world, Zayn’s paint, Louis’s eyes, Harry’s favourite shirts.

“I’m glad we did this today” he said when he reached Zayn sitting by the easel “I just lost my blues too”

Zayn abruptly turned to him, staring at him with something unreadable in his gaze. “Sorry for your loss” Zayn said, sounding almost angry.

“Zayn?” Harry said carefully “Is there something wr…”

“Yes, Harry! Everything is wrong!” Zayn shouted, standing up from the stool and pacing the room “Everything’s wrong, and I’m sorry I can’t mourn the loss of your colours properly, because I have _my own_ loss of colours to deal with”

The words hit Harry in the guts like someone had punched him. “What?” he hissed.

Zayn nodded. “Yeah, Harry, I’m losing my colours too. Have been for months now. So I’m sorry if I can’t really care about yours, but my colours are the only thing I can work with, so I really can’t think about anyone else’s colours now”

Harry felt like crying at the discovery. He’d been complaining about his own colours almost every day, and every day Zayn had been there for him, to make it better, and Harry hadn’t even noticed something was wrong with Zayn as well. He’d seen the frowns, seen how Zayn sometimes struggled to draw, and hadn’t _understood_.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked, his voice coming out all wrong.

Zayn chuckled bitterly, and Harry hated the sound. “Because it doesn’t matter, Harry. There’s something wrong with me, probably with you too to be honest, and talking about it won’t fix it. Telling you and having you look at me with pity, like you always tell me not to look at you, wouldn’t fix it. It would only make it worse”

 _I don’t even know how_ not _to look at you in_ any _way, only you never notice, never care_ , Harry thought angrily. “Zayn, maybe it’s just the universe fixing it, don’t you get it? Maybe the world understood it’s not fair, and it’s giving us the chance of finding our soulmate” the words crawled out of Harry’s mouth like shards of glass. _I don’t want to find my soulmate, I want you, but you deserve the chance of finding yours even if it’s not me_.

Zayn laughed bitterly, again. “Harry, you’re the one who never gets shit, ain’t you? I don’t want a fucking soulmate, I want my colours! I don’t need the world to fix anything, because I don’t even _need_ a soulmate. I want you, I’ve been wanting you since the bloody day I met you, but you don’t want me, and the only things that helped me cope with how you’ve messed my heart up were my colours, and now I don’t even have them anymore!”

Harry recoiled like Zayn had just shot him, which in total honestly, it kinda felt like he did. _What what what what are you saying you don’t want me you never did._ “You want _me_?” he repeated, dumbly.

“Bloody hell, Harry, I thought you were just oblivious, not stupid” Zayn answered with an angry chuckle. _No no no, I want you to smile for real, not like this_.

“I want you!” Harry shouted “I’ve always wanted you! You’re the one who doesn’t want me! You were all flirty with me and then you stopped!”

 _How did we go from body painting to_ this _?_

“Because you flirt with everyone!” Zayn yelled louder “I see you, it’s your default setting, and I don’t blame you for it, but it made me understand I was nothing special after all”

“You are” Harry said, feeling tears pool in his eyes “You are. I don’t know how to tell you how special you are to me”

Zayn averted his eyes and pressed his lips together for a moment. “Tough luck, Harry. I got over it. I would have been happy if we could have stayed just friends at least, but I guess you can’t give me that either. If you really wanted me, you would have told me. You wouldn’t be here blabbering about soulmates and the world fixing itself when I just told you I lost my colours as well”

Harry didn’t know how to reply. “Please look at me” he begged, not even caring how needy he would come across.

And because Zayn was a lovely soul through and through, even if he was mad at Harry, he did raise his eyes and stared at Harry.

Harry felt his heart shrivel into a dry, crumpled mess as he looked at Zayn’s eyes, only to be met with grey. Harry had officially lost all his colours now.

“I lost my browns” he moaned, tears now free to slide down his face “I loved your eyes. And now they’re grey”

Something akin to physical pain flashed on Zayn’s face before he answered. “I just lost my greens. Your eyes are also grey to me. Everything is, now”

Harry didn’t reply, because he didn’t know how to tell Zayn how wrong he was, how Harry loved him no matter which colours were involved, no matter if they would only see in greys from now on. It didn’t matter, in the long run, because Zayn was more important.

But Zayn thought Harry didn’t love him, and he was wrong, but how could Harry prove it to him?

He was spared any more words, though, because soon enough Zayn spoke again. “Leave, Harry. Please. I don’t wanna see you anymore”

Harry should stop hurting Zayn, now that he knew how much he already did.

So he obeyed, and went.

 

*

 

Harry ended up just sending a brief heads-up text to Louis, and instead of going home to him, he drove to his other home, to his mother.

If Anne had sensed something wrong in Harry’s unannounced visit, she didn’t say. She just hugged him, and Harry stared at his mother’s back, in a grey kitchen, while she made late-night pancakes for both of them to eat with cream and strawberries.

The strawberries were also grey, Harry thought grimly as he took a seat on the couch next to Anne.

“Now will you tell me what’s wrong, honey?”

Harry didn’t need anything more than those words to let it all out, apparently, because as soon as Anne spoke, he started crying.

Anne abandoned the pancakes and slid closer to Harry on the couch, hugging him, and Harry felt like a child again, crying on his mother’s chest, but he couldn’t help it.

He told her everything. About Louis meeting his soulmate and getting his eyesight for the first time, about Zayn, wonderful Zayn who painted and wanted Harry, only Harry had been too busy pining to realize it. About all his lost colours, the lost blues and greens and the lost caramel of Zayn’s eyes.

“I never got my colours with your father, you know?” Anne whispered to Harry when he was done rambling about everything that hurt.

Harry sniffled and raised his head to look at her. “You didn’t?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t. Neither did he. But we loved each other anyway, so much. So we didn’t care. We cared about marrying, and about our wonderful children. And even if we got divorced, I still cherish those moments, and I would do it all over again”

Harry sniffled again, nodding. “I get it” he said honestly “So… you got your colours with Robin?”

Anne nodded. “Yeah. And I lost them again when Robin died”

Harry felt a pang of sadness for the only short time in which his mother had enjoyed the colours. He’d had a whole life of them, and now there he was, complaining about his loss, when his mother had never said a word. When _Zayn_ had never said a word.

“The last colour I lost was brown” he told Anne in a teary chuckle “Zayn’s eyes were the last colour I had. You would have liked ‘em too, ma. So big and honey-coloured, eyelashes for days”

Anne chuckled. “Reminds me of that toddler, when you were born”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”

Anne shrugged with a tiny smile. “When you were like just three or four days old, you were in the nursery at the hospital, and I used to sneak out of my room when I was supposed to be resting, to look at you while you slept. That night I saw someone, a little someone, next to you by your cradle. It was this small boy, couldn’t have been older than two, Harry, and he was there, holding your tiny hand and looking at you like you were the sun or something. He had these big, big eyes, a lovely honey colour, and long eyelashes”

Harry’s heart started to thump so loud in his chest that he could see the vibration of his chest under his shirt. “What? Mom? What happened? Who was he?” he almost shouted.

It was stupid to still have hope, but Harry had lived and fed on hope his whole life, even when the world was so fucking unfair.

“Nothing happened, honey” Anne said with a frown “His mother found him and she brought him away, saying sorry. A lovely lady, very polite. Her name was Trisha, I believe”

Harry felt like he’d been shot, again.

“Oh, fuck” he covered his face with his hands, feeling the sudden urge to laugh.

Harry and Zayn hadn’t been _born_ with their colours.

They’d given them to each other when they were young, too young to even possibly remember it. And that meant Harry had been right. The loss of colours started the day Zayn and Harry touched each other again, because the world was trying to fix it, in a wrong and backwards way, but still.

“Harry?” Anne called him, worried.

Harry chuckled. “It was Zayn, ma. The toddler who touched me was Zayn. That’s why I always had my colours. There’s nothing wrong with me, or him”

Anne smiled fondly. “I never believed there was something wrong with you, Harry” she said “Then… I suppose you have something more to tell Zayn?”

Harry nodded.

 

*

 

Harry had frantically called Louis to beg him to ask Liam where Zayn was, and Louis had luckily understood the urgency in Harry’s tone meant something catastrophic was about to happen, so he’d delivered the information of Zayn being at his own place without further ado.

So Harry had almost broken both his legs and his neck in the haste of running to Zayn’s place as fast as he could, and he barely took a single breath before starting to pound on the door with all he had.

“Yo, what the fuck? It’s fucking midnight!” he heard Zayn’s pissed voice, but he opened the door anyway.

“Harry?” he frowned “Harry, go away. I don’t wanna see you”

“Did you sneak into a nursery in the hospital when you were two?” Harry asked, or better, shouted in Zayn’s face, pressing his palms on his own knees to try and make his lungs work properly again.

Zayn frowned deeper. “Harry, what the f…”

“Answer! Did your mother ever tell you that you sneaked into a nursery when you were a toddler?”

“How do you know?” Zayn asked in a mutter, eyeing Harry with suspicion.

“It was me! It was you! We weren’t _born_ already with our colours, Zayn. You sneaked into my nursery when I was only days old and you held my hand. You touched me. That’s when you started seeing colours, that’s when I also did. You’re my fucking soulmate, and I’m yours, and it doesn’t fucking matter anyway!”

Zayn stumbled backwards, like the news Harry was giving him were physically pushing him, and he landed with his ass on a chair. Harry used it as an excuse to invite himself in.

“What do you mean, Harry?” Zayn asked, staring at Harry with big, big, grey eyes.

“I mean that colours don’t matter shit. I’m sorry you lost yours, and I’m sorry I lost mine as well. But I love you, I fell in love with you that very day in the park, and I would do it again even if I knew how it was gonna end” Harry said, getting closer to Zayn, which made Zayn stand up again, his eyes still unreadable “And I’m sorry I flirt with everyone and it’s my default setting, but you’re special anyway, because I don’t let anyone else paint me blue, I don’t stare at anyone else while they draw, I don’t love anyone else’s eyes the way I love yours! You’re the only one, babe, and I would do everything all over again, with or without the colours” he added, trying not to feel victorious too soon when he noticed Zayn’s hard expression loosen, and a small smile make its way on his lips.

Harry had so many things left to say, but he didn’t. Not for lack of trying, but just because Zayn grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him down, kissing him.

Their lips stayed still against each other, but just for a second. Then Harry sighed, and slowly opened his mouth, meaning to dart out his tongue just a little bit.

Zayn didn’t give him time, and slid his own tongue in Harry’s mouth. The kiss felt like electricity, Harry thought as Zayn kept holding him by his shirt while he also directed the kiss.

“I thought you didn’t want me” Zayn muttered on his lips.

“I thought _you_ didn’t want _me_ ” Harry managed to reply while Zayn sucked his bottom lip in his mouth.

“Okay, then everything’s settled” Zayn said with urgency in his tone “Now shut up”

“But Zayn, we have to talk about…”

“Shut up, babe” Zayn interrupted him “I feel like all we did until now is talk. I don’t wanna talk now”

And well, Harry only had so much self-control, and it all went right out the window when Zayn looked at him, his lips already so kiss-swollen that Harry didn’t need any colours to notice.

Zayn grabbed him by his hips and started manhandling him until they reached his bedroom.

Zayn had Harry splayed on the mattress and his mouth on Harry’s dick before he could actually process what was happening. Harry looked down at Zayn, crouched between his legs and greedily slurping while bobbing his head up and down, and he thought he’d never even looked at something so perfect. Everything was grey, yes, and Harry, in that moment, honestly didn’t give a fuck.

“What do you want, babe?” Zayn asked him, letting his dick out of his mouth for a moment.

Harry drove his fingers through Zayn’s hair, Zayn’s hair which was always tied in a topknot but was free now, free and smooth under Harry’s hands.

“I want you to fuck me, Zayn” Harry answered.

He barely managed to hold it together and not come when Zayn nodded and then covered his fingers in lube (Harry didn’t even know when Zayn had retrieved the lube and he honestly didn’t give a fuck about that either) and started stretching him, one finger, then two. Harry felt himself clench at the intrusion, because it had been a long time since he did it, but he willed himself to relax when Zayn stopped sucking on him and resorted to place his lips on Harry’s hip, kissing it and whispering sweet nothings to him while he opened him up at a torturously slow pace.

“Please Zayn please please babe please” Harry heard himself moan.

“Just a little bit more, babe” Zayn murmured against his hip, adding a third finger “I don’t wanna hurt you. I think we hurt each other enough already”

Harry endured it, the slight pain and the desperation for more, because Zayn was always so kind, so thoughtful, it made Harry want to fucking eat him sometimes.

When they both had enough, Zayn scrambled for a condom and rolled it on himself, struggling a bit until Harry chuckled and moved to help him. Harry used the movement to just kiss him again.

 

Harry heard Zayn take a sharp intake of breath when he started breaching him, inch by slow inch, and Harry felt the familiar discomfort mixed with a pleasure he’d never fucking experienced, not even once, not this intense, because it was all Zayn, and Harry loved him so much it hurt. When Zayn finally bottomed out in Harry, he stayed very still, and probably would have stayed still forever if Harry at some point didn’t nod. “Move, Zayn, please move” he breathed out.

And Zayn did. His thrusts started slowly, making Harry painfully aware of every single inch buried deep in his body, but then they both became more comfortable with each other, and Zayn moved quicker, harder, while Harry remembered himself enough to start meeting Zayn’s thrusts halfway.

“You’re so tight, babe” Zayn panted on his lips “You feel so fucking good”

Harry nodded. “You too, babe, you too, more please more, I wish we would have done this from the first day” he replied, meaning every single word.

Zayn moaned a little bit at that, quickening his pace even more, his strong hands settling on Harry’s hips and pressing so hard Harry would surely have marks. He found out he would cherish them even if he would never be able to see their real colour.

Zayn put his hands under Harry’s knees and raised them a bit higher after that, slightly changing his angle, and Harry swore loudly, his vision blurring. His nails dug in Zayn’s shoulders, and Zayn hissed, but kept hitting Harry’s prostate until he came untouched, come streaking between their chests. He clenched on Zayn, because he couldn’t help it, and Zayn came as well, muttering Harry’s name over and over again until they were both spent, collapsed on top of each other with come drying on their skin.

They didn’t mind it, because they were both so content that they fell asleep in each other’s arms before either of them could muster the will to do anything else.

Harry fell asleep a bit later than Zayn, though, and the last thing he thought was that he didn’t care he lost his colours, not anymore. Because he had been lucky enough to see Zayn in colour once, the honey of his eyes and the gold of his skin, and Harry would cherish the memory and love it like he’d always loved his colours.

 

*

 

Harry woke up the next morning with Zayn’s warm body next to him, and when he opened his eyes, he found Zayn staring down at him, on his side, propped on his elbow and with his cheek resting on his hand.

Harry was met with shades and shades of gold and honey and caramel.

He gasped when the realization hit him, jolting straight up and sitting, blinking furiously to be sure he wasn’t imagining things.

Zayn chuckled, and sat up more slowly, grabbing Harry’s face with both his hands. “Your eyes are very green” he stated, and then kissed Harry.

Harry kept his eyes open, because Zayn’s eyes were honey and he could _see_ it, and his cheeks were tinted a delicate red, and he could see _that_ as well.

“What…”

“I guess you were right” Zayn shrugged, his lips still on Harry’s “The universe was trying to fix things. I only wish it had a less invasive idea to do that. But” he added, looking at Harry with a more serious expression “I heard what you said last night. And, me too. I would do it all again as well, even if I knew how it was gonna end. I don’t regret meeting you, even if it meant losing my colours. You’re more important”

Harry smiled, entwining their fingers and staring at their joined hands. “I’m glad. But I’m also glad you got your beloved colours back. I was stupid, Zayn, I didn’t notice what you were going through, and I’m sorry. So I’m glad it solved itself somehow”

Zayn kissed the back of Harry’s hand. “Me too, I won’t lie”

Harry laughed. “I fucking love your eyes, have I ever told you that?”

“I said that first” Zayn arched an eyebrow.

Harry laughed again, and threw himself on Zayn, while Zayn huffed a breath and endured the attack with a chuckle.

“You should paint me blue again” Harry whispered against Zayn’s lips.

Zayn laughed. “I can paint you with all the colours of the wind now, babe”

Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t let Zayn go. “We’ll see about that, Pocahontas”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope whoever reads this enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> Let me know what you think, and come find me on tumblr at wont-you-stay-till-the-am.tumblr.com if you wanna have a chat.  
> Till next time :)


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